Personal Narrative: Post Traumatic Distress

When people go through something difficult it can change them. Making them who they are, it can change them for the bad or good. Therefore, hardships can greatly influence a person’s life by making them appreciate all the things that make life enjoyable.

On September 2nd 2016 my best friend, Ashley Minor, who is a single mom of two, was working her twelve house shift at the hospital. At the end of her shift her life stopped for a short time when she received a phone call that her 8 year old son Teagan, was hit by a car, and had multiple injuries.

We also got a brother along with a mother and father. He was born with alcohol syndrome because his mother drank when she was pregnant with him. We all had our own bag of problems. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) for everything that happened to me. When I was a year old, one of my foster families didn't strap me into my car seat, and they got into a wreck. The car accident started my PTSD, but after that, everything bad that happened made my PTSD worse. My sister had mental health issues, to the point where the doctors said her mindset would remain at 15 until she's 35.

On April 19th, the Department of Social Work and Addictions presented a conference about trauma and immigration, in which taught and shared different ways to cope with traumas, in different areas such as domestic violence, and trauma in immigrant communities. While I was listening to the speakers I was thinking on how strong they are, and what they have had to go through and now with all that they are sharing with us what one day was pain and trauma.

that we're conditioned to not ask questions and have been marginalized into this as our only source of news .

My whole life, I had always thought that people reacted the same way I did in stressful situations, and the people around me experienced emotions and thoughts the same way. The realization that I overreacted and suffered immensely because of it made me feel isolated and seemed daunting, as if I would never understand or be able to fight the feeling of hopelessness that overwhelmed my system.

When I opened my eyes I saw ten plus people with agonised faces like the one from that famous painting “The Scream” - by Edvard Munch, staring at me, and slowly moving from one side to another. For a second I thought that I was just having a nightmare so I decided to take a deep breath, but the second after my thought ended I was penetrated by a sharp, unbearable under any circumstances pain, coming from the very top of my spine feeling like I had a large needle inserted into my upper vertebra. It felt like like every single muscle in my body contracted so hard that they ripped my limbs in pieces, and soon I was not able to move at all. All of this lasted for about 5 to 7 seconds my mom told me later on. I have

I could still hear the ringing in my ear as I got up from the bicycle flipping 10 feet in front of me. I checked to see if I had any injuries. I was going around 20mph. I was with my friend named Logan, going down a hill on the street. I had multiple things going on at on time. I was dazed, and I got a minor concussion from the amount of force with which I hit the ground. What I did not notice until it was too late for me to fix it was that my shoelace was untied

It was an oppressively hot and humid day (as usual) at Academy at the Lakes, and Mrs. Starkey was giving a tour to a group of august looking potential investors for the next fundraiser. As she approached the ‘infamous’ Room M-32, she began to feel nervous, and she began to speculate about the devastating possibilities, an idiosyncratic habit of hers. With sweat in her hand, she grabbed the door handle, and she, reluctantly, opened the door. Utter chaos. There were mad kids screaming at each other, and kids hitting each other; the class behaved like a stochastic fractal. Some kids were severely injured with broken bones and traumatizing hits to the head, and other kids were defenestrated. Mrs. Frizzle was out of school (so was the magical school bus), but her students were still in the classroom.

I remember when I started my recovery I was discharged from the detox program into a six month transitional program. Transitional living that deal with people recovering from addiction are often referred to as recovery residences. The Transitional Living Center provided me a place where I could re-establish my own self-worth. When I was at the transitional housing I felt safe from the possibility of a relapse. My recovery plan was individualized according to the determination of my needs. They taught me what my triggers were and how deal with them in positive ways. I remember when my six months were up and I was getting ready to be transferred into the supportive housing program to be integrated back into the community. Supportive housing allowed

Lesson’s can be learned from everything traumatic experiences or good experiences. Some it takes one time to learn the lesson for me it take a few. Although it helped to learn; it wasn't the best way to actually learn it. But now I can say that it was the only true way to experience it.

[i] HOW DID I LET HIM TALK ME INTO THIS?![/i] Xia seemed to scream these words over and over in her mind as she followed her brother into the zoo. Everything about this screamed danger to the Alpha who had only entered the dome a small handful of times to retrieve supplies. How did she let her brothers big puppy eyes sway her level head into coming to this place for the sake of what exactly...? ANIMALS! God damn it Xiu. Her tail didn't wag nor did she show any signs of happiness as she stood watching as her brother made his way into the enclosure with the snow leopards. There was her entire life going into an enclosure with predators if anything happened to him if they even scratched him out of instinct, she was likely to skin them and wear their pelts! A low growl sat in her throat as she observed him, her heart racing as she watched the felines begin to engage with her brother. [b]" BE CAREFUL XIU!"[/b], she barked at the soft hearted man.

When I was at Merced college I met the most wonderful person in the world. She was so easy to talk to and so relaxed and caring. We talked about so many topics through the two years we had classes. We talked about family, money, our education, drugs, and previous relationships during the breath of our relationship. She disclosed so much information before I really started to disclose intimate information about myself. As we got closer and closer going more in depth in the conversation and the amount of disclosing as well as how personal the disclosure was which in turn gave me anxiety. What really stopped the relationship from going to the next level was my high anxiety and vulnerability about certain topics. Do to this level of anxiety and

I am unknown to the human eye, that has stayed alive. Every full moon, I go to a house and do something I am forced to do. I am done my training, and my life is already planned out for me. Understanding isn't the same as wanting, knowing isn't the same as doing, but that is what is expected of me. I had gotten used to adding a new object, and this one was the same as the rest. I placed the tan coloured piece towards the right side of the table. Suddenly, a maid came in and instructed that I destroy another life, which was requested by my late father.

I have faced a lot and learned a lot from that. I think I had fallen into the woes of blaming my background for my less than stellar grades in the beginning of my college years. I have also faced hardships as well. I have worked off and on during that time to help with keeping my family afloat during the major economic recession. It has gotten to the point where I had to take a step back and leave my family's household to get my life together because all these things were affecting my grades and my health.